Thursday, 28 June 2007

Farmed Out

I have been dreading it since my daughter’s nursery teacher casually invited me on the outing to the farm park. “We don’t get many men” she told me. I could believe that, judging by the crisp-suited fathers I see prodding their children through classroom doors then sprinting in relief for the tube. “Yes that’ll be fine” I said, airily waving at an imaginary diary, every page of which stretched blank into the future.

So I rise ludicrously early and take my daughter and her packed lunch to nursery. In the rush-hour bus I am squeezed speechless, as we hurtle through the streets like an out-of-control carousel. Like everywhere else in London it is full of men in suits, mums, pushchairs, children in uniforms, builders, people with bags.

I drift down into the tube station with my daughter, ancient urges suddenly propelling me towards the Metro dispenser; a strange parody of the two years ago me. There’s pushing and rushing all around us. Everyone seems desperate in some way. To get to somewhere or from somewhere. Or away from something. The tube workers bristle with the tension of rush-hour problems.

At nursery there is an assortment of mothers perfectly prepared for a shopping trip to the West End, in heels, sunglasses, casual, but unmistakably designer, clothes. I say hello in my pretend relaxed way. I’m ok at this stuff after two years. The two years ago me would have shrieked inwardly, and maybe outwardly, and felt like running away. My daughter is a great help in this. She comes and chats to me when I am running short of amiable claptrap. It helps tremendously.

When it is time to board the coach I say hello to the male driver. Engrossed in his copy of the Sun, he doesn’t pick up on my cry for help and carries on fiddling with his sunglasses. I realize I’m on my own. I end up sitting next to a French boy who looks at me as only a Frenchman can, when he discovers I am neither French nor his mother. I want to scream at him “LOOK AT ME! I AM SUFFERING FOR ALL MEN! I. AM. YOU!” Instead I busy myself looking at roads and waving at my daughter when she gets bored with her neighbour.

At the farm park the mums totter around, desperately looking for somewhere to spend their money. A £3.99 fluffy cat in the farm gift shop proves popular. It allows them at least to get out their purses and take off their sunglasses. Outside they stand around in groups, chatting like they’re in a bar, only breaking off their conversations to catch a falling body. They look at me with distaste. One of them is complaining loudly that she can’t get coffee served to her at the goat enclosure. I chat to the more eccentric mums. The Japanese expat, the arty mum picking her way through the sheep turds in her designer wedges. This keeps me going between frantic shuttling from toilet to playground. Toilet to picnic area. Toilet to sheep pens.

Frankly, it’s six hours of hell. But then at last we’re back on the coach heading home. I’ve been to the toilet countless times, I have sheep turds smeared all over my trousers. The only thing I have eaten all day is a quarter of my daughter’s ham sandwich and I have two four year olds kicking me in the small of my back through the seat.

My daughter is asleep by this time. But suddenly one of the designer women talks to me! I lean forward to listen. “Oh dear” she says, gesturing at the figure dozing next to me. I raise my eyebrows. “She isn’t going to sleep later. Her mother won’t be happy.” I smile and look out of the window, seeing nothing. Everything is a blur. I think for a moment I am going to cry.

68 comments:

Going with them on nursery/school trips is hell, and on balance I think the school ones are worse. The kids are older and more canny about playing up anyone who isn't a teacher.Those mothers sound vile. Makes me glad I don't live in London any more.

Sorry, but I am laughing hysterically at this post. I've been on many a school trip just like this one (only our mums don't wear designer anything). I never seemed to have a ready excuse when the teachers asked me, and I was police-checked after all. I no longer have to go because my son banned me after the last time when I took issue with a few misbehaving boys (the teachers never seemed to be around). Next time you're asked, run, hide, lie, anything to avoid the Dreaded School Trip.

i'm surprised these women bothered to go on the trip at all. when we took our kids on trips we would always get the same (lovely) mothers coming along to help - the same mothers who volunteered to help with school dinners, helped maintain the school gardens, help with reading, and generally the ones who are also trying to hold down 5 jobs, and have about 5 kids of their own. the mothers you describe would occasionally be spotted at a 'good work' assembly in all their get-up and glory, and barely utter a word to us mere teachers.

I feel for you SAHD, alone and scared amongst those very strange mothers that you seem to have absolutely nothing in common with, other than the fact that you are both parents (in different universes ;).But you know what scares me more... the fact that you know what 'designer wedges' or just plain 'wedges' are (other than the potato ones!)... weird. I don't know a single man who knows that word ;)

I liked the bit about your daughter chatting to you whenever you found yourself on your own. I have often been glad of my children as social props, ice-breakers, excuses for getting out of conversations, excuses to leave early. And yes, if you're ever stuck for someone to talk to, you can always go and find them.

I feel for you. I remember school trips like that where I felt like a fish out of water. People look through you almost like you're not there, don't they? I am thankful my kids are older now. There are far fewer trips.

Sounds gruesome. But think how much worse it would be if the baying pack (of mothers) dragged you into their midst, and pretended to be 'friends' with you. Just back this evening from our own end-of-term nursery seaside trip - husband, Granny and I ALL went to support The Bean - and we turned out to be the only relatives there!

Well you're braver than me. School trips are hard word, I expect nursery trips are equally.

I've seen women tottering about by the farm cottages on high heels and it just makes me laugh. What they must think when they see the state of me! Farm parks are such a lovely place to take children though. I'm sure you had a lovely day really.

Being a veteran of three trips in very similar circumstances my only advice is that if you wait for the Mothers to engage with you, it will never happen - take the battle to them and be proactive (assuming of course you wish to engage with them) - afterall they are secretly in awe of you and only wish that their husbands could do the same for them and their children!

Another cracking read, and rest assured you are doing a sterling job for your daughter!

Ooooh, what a bunch of witches! At least your daughter talked to you on the trip. When I went on a nursery trip, my son refused to be in my 'group' and asked to go with someone else's Mummy! I think the nursery staff were horrified, but they didn't realise that mutual embarrassment is a family speciality.

oh how grim. I'm amazed they ignore you, I always chat to approachable looking Dads (!). But there are always cliques, and yours sounds particularly alarming, I bet there were a few of the Mums who went home miserable too... Could the collective noun be a Prada of Mums? Or are they more Chloe in your area?Pigx

It's a little different here with school trips. It's true that Dad's attend less frequently here too. But I think we are treated a little better because of that.It's too bad some Mom's go on these trips just to get credit for volunteering or to make a show.Hope the next trip is better.

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I think crying would have been a good move. And it would have shut her up, too. Could it be you have put your child in the wrong school full of horrible women or, as my husband implies, do all school run women take on this collective terrormum persona? If so, I'd like to apologise for any inadvertent contribution I might have made. I am lighting another candle........Consider yourself fast tracked. I am asking T. Blair to intercede on your behalf with the Pope.

Woman in little gangs are horrid. I would have been in with the goats.

I think you should form another clique with the other outcasts (ie non-Boden wearing wimmin). Gather together, look at horrid mothers' shoes and laugh outrageously and then disperse. Like a school run fashion flash mob.

D did a school trip last week and was helping the children down a steep muddy bank and saw mothers skid down the bank on their fat arses rather than take his extended hand of help.

I have found these women melt when you start hosting their children in your home, after school. If you also help out/work at school, well, you'll be nearly a celebrity overnight.... God knows why they're such hard work to start with.

I loved the turds on trousers bit, haha. I helped out yesterday on a geography field trip and had to persuade unwitting people on the street to come and answer questions from my group of children... I think I also had fox turds on my trousers as we came through a field, but I was nearly past caring. Beaming and winking at total strangers, wearing a fluorescent jacket marked "Walking Bus" and controlling 5 hungry kids was hard work. The first question was: how old are you? I cheated on that, I just had to, and we made the ages up later.

Missed you sahd! Havn't read your blog in WEEKS, been too busy... but what a great writing today! Totally made me laugh.School trips are my favorite. I live in New Jersey, and most mothers around here LOOK and ACT just like you'd imagine. (Think Sopranos). I love volunteering on school trips, just to have a good laugh at the MOMS. My son loves for me to be there at all his special days, so that's why I do it. But I do get a giggle from the spectacles. Keep finding something fun - keeps you going, I find. Keeps the depression at bay.

I can't believe how popular your blog is now!!! Well, actually, I can. You're funny, you write well, and your stories are perfect.

Wow, I am a stay at home Mom and I can relate to your horror of what we call the "feild trip hell" here in the states! LOL Also I just want to say should I have been in "the group" well, you would not have been wandering alone in the dung! LOL That makes me mad actually, I know it is not "standard" but honestly who the frig cares? I think it is wonderful ANY parent take the time out in this day and age to spend time on a field trip or any event with their child. Recently my gf asked me to accompany her and her daughters class on one because they couldn't find a single parent to go! WHAT is up with THAT? So sad!

Thank God mine are now past the stage of parental supervision on school trips, though the youngest is playing in a cricket festival in Bristol this week, but too far for me to travel. I think his big bro might make his way up from Devon to offer the family support!And yes, your daughter noticed ages ago t5hat you didn't take the milk. I'm haunted by 'You always say you will, but never do'

Those mums sound awful. There was a stay at home father at our 'mommy' and me group here, I really, really hope none of us ever made him feel like this. He and his wife attended the same prenatal class as we did before our first, so I had a 'connection' of sorts to him elsewhere and chatted to him as I did to any other parent. This post, and other dad posts I've read lately have me wondering though if he feels much as you do. Hmmm.

dear SAHD, a male friend of mine experienced a similar froideur from the mums when he turned up on a school trip, although he it might have had something to do with his abseiling down the front of the school in a batman outfit as it wasn't his turn to have the children. I will give him a call and see if he can give you any advice. I however think a mask and cape would be entirely superfluous in your case.

Fantastically written post, as you can tell by the zillions of comments - is there room for little ol' me?! You nearly made e cry. I hate women in gangs. Im a veteran of school trips, but luckily our little rural school is blissfully relaxed. Shocked to the core about the lack of coffee at the goat enclosure - Someone Should Be Told.

The postscript to the coffee story was that she went to fetch a tray of coffees and it was honestly like watching something from It's a Knockout as she got the half empty paper cups back to the playground.

Lord, you'd think they'd be thrilled to have an actual male helping out considering how they probably spend half their lives complaining that men are useless... (sorry, am I judging them by their shoes??)

Having a lovely long catch-up on your blog, have been away and missed loads! I love your style, funny and wistful and on the mark.

I was once encouraged to 'help' at my Son's trip to Blackpool Zoo (well worth a visit!?!) with 'we always like to have a nurse on board'. My Son had diarrhoea and locked himself in the toilet - on his release he had a massive nosebleed - they were glad of the nurse. I just wanted a ride on the donkeys! You'll be ready for those Mums next year, the nursery will be sure to ask you again.

Today is the day of another potentially horrific occasion, the end of term party held in the local park next to my 7 year old son's school.

The one potential highlight however is the spectacle of all the alpha mums fighting over the chocolate brownies kindly cooked by the wife of a 3 michelin starred chef. For some bizarre reason they must believe that her husbands cooking skills have magically transferred themselves to his wife!

Good luck VI! Yes it's all end-of-term this and that at the moment. Just goes to show the sacrifices we make for our children ... btw, please send me an email via the blog if you'd like to meet up sometime.